


Points of View

by lost_spook



Category: Enemy at the Door (TV)
Genre: Ficlet, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 06:35:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4909066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_spook/pseuds/lost_spook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Germans might have gone, but the Martels' troubles haven't ended yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Points of View

**Author's Note:**

  * For [executrix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/executrix/gifts).



> Executrix asked for Dr Martel being accused of collaboration. This is probably not as dramatic as it ought to be, but here it is anyway.

“They let you go, then?” said Olive as Philip finally dragged himself in through the back door and into the kitchen. _Oh, dear_ , she added to herself as she cast a second glance at him. Steam was practically coming out of the top of his head. “Philip. They _have_ let you go, haven’t they?”

He huffed for a moment and shrugged off his coat before sitting at the wooden table. “Yes. Reluctantly, with a noticeably bad grace, and the threat of more interviews later, but yes.”

“It’s outrageous,” said Olive. “After all you did for everyone! And, honestly, what did they think you got sent to prison for? But I suppose they don’t think at all, that’s the trouble.”

Philip leant his head on his hand and let go of some of his temper with a small smile. “Minds made of solid red tape, I should imagine. I’d much rather have old Richter.”

“I know,” said Olive, turning away to hide her own smile, before he got annoyed with her. “I think you actually miss him in a funny sort of way.”

Philip straightened up again and gave her a wary look. “Olive! Don’t go saying that to Major White or he’ll have me shot for treason. I’ll have you, him, and every damned man in the street know that I don’t miss the Germans being here. I’m delighted to have everything back to normal – well, if it only would go back to some sort of normal, of course.”

Olive rescued his warmed up dinner from the oven and, having placed it in front of him, sat down beside him at the table. “You know I don’t think that. But there must be about half a dozen times a day I can see you wanting to march up to the Feldkommandantur to have it out with the Colonel before you remember.”

“Well, he was all right, wasn’t he?” said Philip, setting to work on the food. “I wish Major White could be half as reasonable. Wretched man’s got no sense of humour. Or compassion. Or common sense.”

Olive sighed. “As long as he hasn’t taken it into his head to arrest you, I suppose it doesn’t matter.”

“He still could,” said Philip soberly, looking across at her. “I’d like to think it’s as ludicrous as it sounds, but he’s got a point, hasn’t he? Where do you draw the line? When I agreed to be on the controlling committee, that was the first thing Clare said - called me a collaborator. If you want to look at it that way, I helped the enemy keep the place running. You can’t argue with them. It’s true.”

“You’re _not_ a collaborator,” said Olive. “And Clare knew that, too, even then.”

“No,” Philip said. “I don’t believe I am, but it’ll come down to what Major White believes. Or maybe just whether or not his superiors want somebody to blame. I heard poor Ambrose was having an even worse time of it with them. At least I could pointedly bring up the Cherche Midi every time they got too accusing.”

Olive lifted her head. “Well, I don’t care what they want or what they decide. If they try to lock you up, I won’t let it rest. I shall write to the papers – no, to the Prime Minister and half the cabinet, if needs be! I don’t expect they’ll want a fuss made, whatever else they may or may not believe.”

“Oh, well,” said Philip, breaking into a grin, “in that case, I won’t worry my head over it after all.”


End file.
